LARA OF JASOOM Part IV - Kobol
by Thuria
Summary: When Lara, Carthan and their children return from Eighth Century Earth, they discover their flyer has disappeared , forcing them to set out on foot for Helium 4,000 miles away. After weeks of traversing the Rift, they discover an amazing domed city. Ultimately they reach Kobol, where their fate will be determined
1. Chapter 1

LARA OF JASOOM

PART IV

Chapter 1

"Lara, it is not there."

I stared at Carthan, shocked by his grim face and dishevelled appearance. He had just returned to Thiessa's sumptuous home, having intended to retrieve our flyer.

"It must be. You locked it down."

"Yes, I did. But there is no sign of it. I searched as far as the terrain allowed." He glanced down ruefully at his torn and filthy leather tunic and breeches. "Nearly killed myself attempting to climb down into the ravine to try to see the bottom."

I hugged him, shuddering at the thought of so nearly losing him and not knowing. "Then what do you think has happened? It was only there a day!"

He nodded. "Do you recall the morning we awoke to discover the flyer had settled on the plaza outside the terminal?"

After seven years of living in the past, the memory was dim, but in a moment I remembered. "Yes. For no apparent reason It had drifted downwards in the night." If it had not we might never have found the portals.

"It has to be failure of the buoyancy tanks. The flyer probably lies at the bottom of the chasm where it is not retrievable, and even if we could reach it, it will not be airworthy."

We were both silent, stunned by our loss. We had hoped to be back in Helium within a few days, but without the flyer we were now afoot with two small children, a pair of calots, and thousands of miles to go.

While the children slept that night, we talked about our situation for hours, but reached only one conclusion: when no choice exists, then one must accept the inevitable.

After returning to our own time through the portal, we had been invited by Thiessa to stay in her palatial residence until we adjusted to the thinner air, lighter gravity and what was, for all intents and purposes, jet lag. Now, with Thiessa's help, we put the time to good use assembling gear and food for our trek. A huge, icy vault, deep below her living quarters, contained what seemed to be a century's supply of the nutritious dehydrated food that comprised half of what she ate. She supplemented the rest of her diet by snaring rock-hoppers for protein and growing fresh vegetables in the rich soil at the bottom of the Rift valley.

At first we considered taking a direct path to Helium retracing our original flight. However two-thirds of that route was barren desert offering nothing to aid in our survival and much to endanger us, the worst being the race of green men who roamed freely across the wastelands. Many long discussions with our hostess convinced us that a more circuitous route through the Rift canyon would provide better safety and shelter, and keep us on course for at least half our journey. Thiessa pointed out that we, too, could catch small animals and find vegetables that had established themselves permanently from gardens that had grown in the rift centuries before.

She warned us that she did not know what or who lay beyond the limits of her explorations - which, unfortunately, comprised no more than 20 miles in either direction from the portal terminal. With more than two thousand miles of unexplored canyon to traverse, our future prospects were, to say the least, uncertain.

Several days later, each of us carrying packs with sufficient food for weeks, Carthan and I bade farewell to Thiessa, promising her we would return someday for a visit.

Feeling no urgency, the four of us set out across the ruined plaza while the calots, Belle and Paddy, ran ahead celebrating their freedom. As we looked back, Thiessa waved farewell, a lonely figure dwarfed by the enormous colonnades of the portal structure. We wondered if we would ever see her again.

Cara and Tarin, our twins, skipped ahead of us, always eager for new adventures. Fair-skinned and tall for six-year-olds, they had their mother's childhood carrot hair and the Carter changeable grey eyes. Sometimes unmanageably precocious, both could speak English, Barsoomian and Ktunaxa by the time they were three, sometimes mixing up the languages to the confusion of their Rift and aboriginal friends! They could read English by the age of five.

The ancient road, which zig-zagged several miles down to the canyon floor from the plaza, proved treacherous. Some of it had deteriorated to the point of non-existence; the remainder was covered in rubble, making footing dangerous and slow-going. I wondered how Thiessa managed. That day's trek was the equivalent of the descent of a 15,000 foot mountain.

The sun had nearly set by the time we reached the floor of the Rift physically exhausted and with knees like jelly. All about us stood groves of Barsoom's ubiquitous sorapus and mantalia trees which grew in abundance in low-lying and shaded areas of the planet, particularly in places where water had once existed. Their tap roots sometimes extended hundreds of feet into the ground. Thirst would not be a problem for us: mantalia provides a nutritious milk-like sap, sufficient in itself to keep one alive for weeks.

The Rift Valley lies in an east-west line precisely on the equator and the heat of the all-day sun, radiating within canyon walls higher than the Rockies, lent a warmth I had never before encountered on Mars. Walking was generally easy where the ground was level, even for the children.

We were now a third of our Earth weight, and even Cara and Tarin's endurance was nearly the equivalent of that of an adult Barsoomian. Carthan, his seven-year sojourn on Earth having made him immensely strong by Barsoomian standards, now possessed the abilities of his Earthly grandfather. He made huge experimental leaps, to the delight of our children, and then all of us bounded breathtaking distances through the canyon that first day. Our antics, however spectacular and speedy, proved tiring and unsafe and we soon settled into a more sedate pace

There was little left of Rift City and the civilization that had thrived here 600 Barsoomian years ago. Most of the infrastructure, such as exterior walls, stairs and bridges which had all been built of stone, had collapsed into the canyon. We frequently spotted gaping black holes high in the cliffs, the remnants of once-elegant homes and civic structures, belying Thiessa's hyperbole about habitable dwellings still existing. There was so little left that only someone who had actually seen the city as we had long ago, would believe that people had once lived here.

Sometimes we ventured into the more accessible caves at ground level, but little visible evidence remained of any habitation except piles of unidentifiable rubble. These lowest caves, where the sun's warmth was trapped at the end of each day, provided excellent shelter against the chill Barsoomian night. Once, we thought we recognized the dwelling we had used in the past, with its five acre walled garden, but the cave had collapsed and there wasn't enough left of the wall to be certain.

Cara and Tarin proved far more resilient than Carthan and I had ever anticipated. They found joy in everything they saw, dancing exuberantly from one fascinating find to another, whether it was a plant or a rock-hopper or an interesting artifact – of which there were surprisingly few. Cara was usually the leader in these escapades, luring her more reserved brother into places he might otherwise have avoided.

Carthan and I, however, worried as parents are wont to do. This was no way for children to live, walking endlessly across the face of a planet! We were perhaps 500 miles in from the western end of the Rift, and if (when!) we ever reached its terminus in the east, we estimated we would have a further two thousand miles to traverse across the unknown before reaching Helium, far to the southeast.

We tried to recall if there was a city along our route where we might be able to obtain a flyer. Carthan knew that the vassal state of Kobol, which had been conquered by Helium decades ago, lay near the equator but he was uncertain where it was relative to our location. Without compass or map we could stumble about for years looking for it.

As the days passed, so did the miles. Carthan and I had been increasing the daily distances by small increments and while the children were tired by the end of a day's trek, they were by no means stressed since we carried them for perhaps half the time. By the tenth day I estimated we had travelled more than three hundred miles from the portal terminal.

Every evening Carthan and I would practice fencing – a skill we had neglected in our seven years on Earth. The children looked on, fascinated. It would be years before we would allow them to hold a blade, but we permitted them to emulate us with wooden swords that Carthan whittled from Sorapus branches.

The days and weeks passed without incident, with only towering cliffs and groves of trees for scenery, and – apart from ourselves – silence for company. I have rarely before experienced such an absence of sound. There are no birds or insects on Barsoom, no running water, and not even the fierce equinoxial storms could penetrate this deeply into the Rift.

Perhaps it was the monotony that made us inexcusably complacent.

About five weeks into our trek we had again used a shallow cave for shelter. I awoke early in the morning as always to discover that Cara was not on her pallet next to her brother. Thinking she was answering nature's call, I wandered outside to look for her. When within minutes I realized she was not anywhere within sight or hearing I ran back to Carthan. We shook Tarin awake.

"Tarin. Tarin!" I said, touching his cheek to gain his attention. "Where did Cara go?"

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "She went with the grizzly." He looked at Cara's empty pallet, eyes widening with alarm when he saw she wasn't there. "But she said she'd be back for breakfast!"

"'Grizzly?'" Carthan repeated, his voice hollow with apprehension. "What did this 'grizzly' look like?"

"He was all black fur and he was bigger 'n' a grizzly but he had four arms!" He added as an afterthought, "And his face looked funny too."

"Omigod," I moaned, wrapping my arms around myself. Tarin knew what he was talking about. While the description was not that of a grizzly, the size was probably accurate. He had often seen grizzlies wander through our village in Moon Valley.

"When did the grizzly take Cara away?" Carthan asked in a hoarse whisper, his fear for his daughter as transparent as mine.

"The sun was just coming up." Tarin answered in a tiny voice, glancing at each of us in alarm. "You were sleeping and we were playing outside."

An hour ago.

Carthan, who once had an all-too-close-encounter with a grizzly, was no doubt having nightmarish visions of what such a large creature could do to our daughter. Grim-faced, he turned to dress, jerking on his clothing with efficient haste. Our only weapons were our swords – Carthan's long sword and the jewelled rapier I had found – and a pair of daggers given to us by Thiessa. We had brought pistols with us from Helium, but we had left them on our now-lost flyer.

Frantic with fear for Cara, I was torn between a need to go with Carthan and the necessity of remaining with Tarin. A swift, explicit verbal exchange concluded we would all go together, carrying all our gear. Who knew how far we would have to travel or how long we would have to search?

When we were ready, Carthan squatted in front of his son. "Tarin, did you see which way Cara went with the grizzly?"

Tarin, now deeply troubled, nodded and pointed eastward. "I watched them go that way for a long time till I couldn't see them any more."

"Wasn't Cara scared?" Carthan was obviously as puzzled as I that she hadn't cried out.

Tarin shook his head. "She was laughing. She thought it was fun to ride on the grizzly's shoulders." He looked at his father tragically, his grey eyes brimming with tears, and wailed, "She said she'd come back, 'Than!"

It took both of us to calm Tarin enough to be able to set out on the trail of the beast. Carthan, who knew most of Barsoom's wildlife, said he was unfamiliar with the black-furred six-limbed creature Tarin had described. The spoor was fairly easy to follow in the softer soil, but disappeared in gravel beds and rock slides. We must have travelled five miles in the wake of the animal before its trail disappeared entirely.

A superlative tracker, with years of experience on both Earth and Mars, Carthan stopped short, stymied. The canyon had broadened out to the extent that we could no longer see its northern edge. We were dwarfed, as we faced south, by the 25,000 ft southern escarpment towering over us. We stood in silence, staring at each other, while a dejected and weary Tarin sat on a boulder, holding his chin in his hands.

From the corner of my eye I saw his head come up.

"I hear her!" he cried in excitement, leaping to his feet as his eyes quested upwards.

"What do you hear?" I asked, unable to detect any sound.

"She's laughing," he said.

"Not crying?' I asked in disbelief.

Tarin shook his head.

And then both Carthan and I heard it too – a shriek of childish laughter from high on the mountainside above us: Cara the daredevil, laughing where any other child might scream in fright. Clearly she did not sense any danger in her situation.

What kind of creature could capture a small child and carry her off without terrifying her? In a barren land such as the Rift where food was scarce, that was both strange and ominous.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

All of us peered up at the fractured cliffs and rock-strewn face of the mountainside above us. Carthan was the first to spot an anomaly off to our right – glimpses of a trail which led steeply upward in wide loops. We had to back-track to find its origin in a stand of mantalia which had hidden the trail from the point we had passed it. The well-used trail had been meticulously cleaned of rock and the mantalia grove showed signs that the trees had been regularly tapped for their sap. Carthan showed me the starkly clear footprints of the creature he had been tracking – they were as broad as my stretched fingers and two hands long.

"Whatever it is," Carthan observed, "it is not as large as a Great White Ape, though its footprints are similar in shape."

"Then it may be an ape relative?"

Nodding, he immediately began striding up the trail. In his determination, he forgot poor Tarin, running between us, whose short sturdy legs struggled to keep up. "'Than, wait for me!"

Carthan, already burdened with a heavy pack, turned with a grin, swung his son to his shoulders, and then continued to surge upward as if he carried no weight at all. I kept up for a time but my bothersome Earthly lungs, with their greater need for oxygen, soon had me gasping for breath. I fell behind but Carthan, single-mindedly intent on finding his daughter, failed to notice.

After an hour of steading climbing, I stopped to catch my breath when the path terminated on a wide ledge where a sizable opening led into the depths of the mountain. Neither Carthan nor Tarin were anywhere in sight, but at that moment Belle and Paddy caught up. The calots always travelled ahead of us scouting out danger, and they had not immediately noticed when we reversed direction. Lungs heaving, I was incapable at that moment of ordering them to stay. Being curious as cats, the pair trotted into the cave.

I experienced conflicting emotions. Alarm, wondering what dangers lay in wait for them; and relief in knowing they were nearby. Formidably armed, they could tear an enemy to shreds in seconds. Even though Belle and Paddy had been born tame, they would fight to the death defending our family.

Then I nearly leapt out of my skin when I felt a touch on my hand. Whirling and reaching for my rapier, I nearly tripped over Tarin who was looking up at me in alarm.

"Are you okay, Yara?" he asked in English, forgetting that he really could pronounce the "L", and that he was to speak Barsoomian at all times.

I fell to my knees in front of him. "Yes, my warrior," I assured him in Barsoomian, hugging him close. Looking up at Carthan who had come up behind our son, I asked, "Why did I not see you when I got here?"

"We heard you coming," replied Tarin, "and we were practicing that we didn't know who you were so we hid behind that big rock."

I nodded in understanding as I exchanged an amused glance with Carthan. "A very wise thing to do, but perhaps next time you could warn me so that I won't run you through accidentally?"

Eyes wide as he visualized that particular scenario, he nodded solemnly.

"Any sign of Cara?" I asked Carthan.

He shook his head, an odd expression his face. "We believe the 'grizzly' took her into the cave." Then he took my hand, helping me to my feet. "Lara, you need to see something."

He led me to the outermost edge of the ledge and turned me around to face the mountain. "Do you see anything peculiar?"

I had been concentrating so hard on getting enough air while climbing the path, that I had not looked up at what lay before me. Even now I wonder how I could have missed it.

A dome. An enormous dome, half a mile across, arching over a huge natural plateau on a deep shoulder of the mountain. Almost invisible under what must have been centuries of rock-falls and detritis shed from above, here and there the transparent material of which it was composed still reflected the pink sky overhead.

I gasped. "That – that is incredible!"

Carthan nodded. "What kind of substance could stand up to centuries of such abuse by the elements and remain intact?"

I shook my head. "Even the Rift civilization's technological achievements didn't survive 600 years. Do you think anyone is alive in there?"

Carthan said, "We will soon find out," as he led the way to the cave.

Covered entirely by fallen rock, the dome's cave-like entrance was actually a tubular airlock which led toward a partially buried wall of the dome. The outermost of the airlock doors hung ajar and askew, but the entrance to the dome was still operable. It opened at a touch, which accounted for the ease with which the calots must have entered.

Beyond lay what is surely one of the wonders of Barsoom – a bewildering, colourful, dazzling city. Its complexity was too much to take in all at once, and we stood in the small plaza adjoining the airlock trying to make sense of it.

There did not appear to be any streets or walkways. Rather, the buildings stood randomly scattered like handfuls of dice tossed onto a game board – the 'board' being the huge park-like space covered by the dome. The ground cover comprised the same red sward that passes for lawns in Barsoomian cities. Each structure, composed of some opaque jewel-like substance, radiated a different colour of the spectrum. Each was molded in a different geometric form – diamond, pyramid, sphere and the like – perched precariously on a tiny point of its particular shape. The effect was of fluidity and weightlessness – as if a mere touch could send the whole lot rolling around under the dome like bowling balls.

However, there were signs of considerable age. The massive amount of debris that covered the dome dimmed the daylight from outside, and the buildings, which must once have glittered gloriously when they were new, were covered in ages of grime.

Nothing moved within our view, and no sound broke the silence.

"How will we find Cara in all that?" I murmured, feeling I should whisper.

"The calots could find her if they were here," Carthan said.

"But they are here. They must have passed you when you were . . . hiding from me," I said, smiling at Tarin.

Carthan put two fingers to his lips. His piercing whistle seemed to echo in waves around the dome. Though the sound seemed non-directional, the grinning calots nonetheless came racing toward us within moments.

They drew to attention as Carthan held up his fist. "Find Cara," he said, holding up three fingers – Cara's indicator. The animals sat perfectly still for a moment, sniffing the air and perhaps even communing with each other. Though we knew they could receive basic telepathic information, no one really knew how intelligent they were.

Then both of them sprang into a flat-out sprint at the same moment. Carthan shouted at them and they slowed enough for us to keep up. We jogged in and around the strangely shaped structures until we reached a circular central plaza.

The myriad-coloured mosaic tile of the plaza floor must have spanned an acre in size. Without doubt it was the largest and most exquisite single piece of artwork I have ever beheld. Carthan caught his breath in amazement when he recognized it as an ancient map of Barsoom. In fact he told me later that it represented the planet as it was tens of millennia before his oldest maps showed, with oceans and rivers that hadn't existed for a million years. Even from our close proximity, the tile work was so minutely detailed that the map might have been a photograph.

The question was, how long had it been there?

It was difficult in the face of such artistry to stay focussed on our objective – finding Cara! However, the calots, having no interest in mosaic workmanship, had continued single-mindedly on their quest. As we stood mesmerized, we heard their triumphant "found-the-quarry!" yodels. Carthan took off at a run, while I scooped up Tarin and trotted after him. We followed the sound for another quarter mile before we came upon the calots.

Belle and Paddy stood, still yowling, before an opaque amythyst tetrahedron. We walked all around the structure, which was impossibly balanced on one of its points. There was no sign of an entrance or windows. We circled it again more slowly, reaching as high as we could to seek some sign of an opening. Nothing.

Carthan silenced the calots with an abrupt hand-signal, but they continued to stare at the building in anticipation. We knew they would remain there until they actually saw Cara.

Someone else apparently knew it too. A door-sized triangular panel silently slid aside half way up one wall of the building. Carthan the warrior drew his sword, battle ready.

As a long ramp glided down to ground level, a man approached the opening with Cara beside him.

"Lara'n'than!" she cried, flying down the ramp at an alarming speed. She threw herself into my waiting arms.

"Darling, are you all right?" I asked my fiery-haired daughter, holding her away from me. She looked the picture of health, both physically and mentally. Her radiance seemed to light up the gloom within the dome.

"I'm fine Lara that's Raven," she said, pointing at the man.

With the characteristic brown skin, white hair, and distinctive features of the Rift people we had come to know so well, the man seemed to be in his 30s. Closer scrutiny of his face, however, revealed that he was far older than his appearance would suggest. His mouth, framed with deep lines, was set in cynicism. Sharp eyes that had seen too much and for too long, glanced back and forth among us in curiosity. His entire demeanor exuded great age and supreme self-assurance, but a bone-deep weariness seemed to permeate his too thin body. I wondered if he were one of the immortals Thiessa had told us about.

"Raven?" I repeated, knowing Cara's propensity for modifying names.

"Rab Taven," he said, his grim mouth relaxing a little: Cara's vitality seemed to have touched even his old, cold heart. "Raven, however, is acceptable. May I be permitted to ask – " he continued with exquisite courtesy, "what are these small creatures?" A graceful gesture indicated first Cara and then Tarin.

When Carthan continued to stand with sword at the ready, it was up to me to answer the question. Like every other Barsoomian, Raven had never seen a child under the age of twelve. In fact, If Thiessa were to be believed, he may not have seen a Barsoomian younger than himself for millenia.

I wrestled briefly with an explanation and decided on the plain truth: "They are our children and they are as human as you. I am not oviparous and they were born live as tiny infants three Barsoomian years ago."

Both of Raven's eyebrows lifted. "'Not oviparous'? Remarkable. And two of them born at the same time? Why do you specify 'Barsoomian' years? You intrigue me, and I have not been intrigued by anything for a very long time. I wish to know more. Will you join me in my home?" He stood back with an arm raised in invitation.

Belle and Paddy, normally mistrustful of strangers, eagerly took up the offer while Carthan and I were still exchanging doubtful glances. They trotted up the ramp as if it were home, followed immediately by our children. Carthan closed his mouth on whatever he was about to say, sheathed his sword with a shrug, and the two of us followed meekly.

We, too, wished to know more.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

In the process of writing these narratives, I seem to have exhausted my stock of superlatives. For those interested in the amythyst tetrahedron's interior, a simple description of a not-so-simple edifice will have to suffice.

From within, the three steeply-angled walls and flat ceiling were as transparent as glass. We could see the entire city, its dwellings dotting the landscape like gigantic jewels, as well as the rubble-strewn dome far overhead.

The spartan triangle-shaped interior was one large room, much larger than we had expected, which contained nothing but several unusual chairs, and no sign of practical facilities such as kitchen or washroom. This lack evidently worried Cara. She planted her feet in front of Raven, fists on hips, looking straight up into his eyes. To my baffllement, he nodded, and with a wave of his hand a section of floor slid aside to reveal a ramp spiraling downward into a brightly-lighted space below. Cara glanced at her brother and, taking her cue, Tarin followed her down into the depths.

Not a single word had been spoken.

We knew Cara and Tarin had some telepathic ability inherited from Carthan. Since returning to Barsoom and hiking the Rift, we had often asked the children to call the calots in for a meal. After a few days, we noticed that the animals responded even though neither child had called aloud. Carthan and I assumed at the time that the children had a special bond with the calots. Now I realized it was far more.

"They are extraordinary," Raven said as if following my thoughts. "Very strong mind-speakers." He looked at us keenly. "You didn't know?"

"We guessed," I replied. "The gift is from Carthan. I have none to speak of."

Raven said, "On the contrary – most of their ability comes from you. You simply have not learned to utilize it."

I shook my head in disbelief. Raven merely smiled, eyebrows raised.

At that moment the outer door slid open and the ape trundled in, his great black twelve-foot-tall bulk filling the entire entrance way. Carthan stiffened to a half-crouch, his sword appearing in his hand as if conjured from nowhere. As I reached for my rapier, the calots sprang between us, and the ape raised all four arms defensively.

Raven shouted, "Stop! He will not harm you!"

As our tableau froze in place, Raven added quietly, "Did he harm your daughter?"

"He didn't hurt me, 'Than," said a tiny voice in corroboration as Cara emerged from the floor opening and ran to the ape, hugging one of its legs. "He's nice and he gives good rides almost as good as you. But furrier," she added as an afterthought.

Carthan slowly slid his sword into its scabbard, turned toward his daughter, and grinned quizzically. "Furrier?"

She dimpled. "Softer." She looked up at the creature, who had relaxed its stance. "His name is Xodo."

Weak-kneed with relief, I sank abruptly into the nearest chair – which in turn began to hug me! With an unladylike squeak, I tried to regain my feet but the chair held me fast. Suddenly feeling foolish, I relaxed into the form-encompassing recliner, allowing myself to enjoy the sensation of real comfort – a luxury we had sorely lacked in the last seven years on Earth.

The diversion broke the tension in the room. While we adults relaxed and the calots collapsed at our feet with huge sighs, the ape took the children down to the lower floor, its purpose unknown. Within a few minutes all three returned bearing beverages and food.

Carthan exclaimed at the sight of a great ape working as a servant.

Raven said, "Like your calots, Xodo is sentient to some extent and though he cannot speak he can interpret one's wishes."

"A slave, then," Carthan commented shortly. He abhored slavery of any kind.

"By no means. Slavery implies captivity and lack of choice. He is free to leave at any time. While indigenous to the Rift, he and many others of his kind prefer the comforts of the city. In return for shelter and food, the apes offer those services of which they are capable."

The ape and our twins served us mantalia milk and some kind of sweet. They then sat in a corner to consume their own.

"Why did he take Cara from us?" I asked, watching the ape as he tried to emulate the eating motions of my children.

Raven replied, "I admit to some embarrassment about that and must offer my apology. Xodo senses that I am . . . lonely at times and I suppose he thought Cara might be good company. His kind is yet too primitive to have a concept of wrongdoing." He gave a wistful smile. "He was correct, of course. Her company is quite refreshing."

He look at each of us. "As is yours. You must have many questions about our city and I shall be pleased to answer."

An unusual offer, I thought, considering he didn't know us. When Raven gave me an uncomfortably direct look, I suddenly wondered if I was wrong.

Unaware of this exchange, Carthan the cartographer said, "Thank you. Please tell us about the map."

Raven nodded. "Ah, yes – I thought that would interest you."

How did he know that!

At that, it finally sank into my skeptical brain that he could and did 'know' us. He was telepathic – far more so than I could ever have imagined. I found myself extremely uncomfortable, conscious of every thought he must be 'reading'.

He turned toward me. I think he turned toward me. He _seemed _to have turned toward me. "Please do not be concerned – I 'read' generalities only. To read specifics is exhausting and pointless. Be at peace."

And, oddly enough, I was.

Now, as I reflect on that incident, I realize he had not spoken aloud. Rab Taven was not merely a powerful telepath and hypnotist, but a catalyst who at that very moment had liberated my mind.

Carthan, still oblivious to the undercurrent, launched into a discussion of the map with dedicated enthusiasm. Raven said the mosaic had been created with the city several thousand years ago and that the map's details of oceans and rivers were not contemporary with the city's construction but based on ancient maps. He offered to show them to an eager Carthan at the next opportunity.

The conversation then strayed into the composition of the dome which, he explained, was a force field perpetually powered by the molten core of the planet itself.

I took no part in the discussion. I nodded off in that exquisitely comfortable chair and missed all the excruciating details.

. . . . .

My new-found telepathic ability did not manifest itself immediately. Only gradually, over the next few weeks did I discover, first, that Cara and Tarin's emotions had become far more apparent to me, and then their thoughts clarified to the point that I could anticipate their needs and intentions. The longer we remained in the city – which was several weeks - the more easily I became able to locate them, much as the calots could.

Raven had given us the use of an emerald cube (a more familiar shape for the children, he said), which, perched foursquare on an impossibly thin pillar, stood near his tetrahedron. With a population of fewer than 50 souls, most of the city's dwellings were empty. When I questioned Raven about the low population, he confirmed something Thiessa had told us.

"It is true that we are a dying breed. I sense that you think of us as 'immortals', but while we live three times longer than those on the rest of the planet, we do die naturally. It is also true that we became sterile as a result of the longevity serum we ingested voluntarily three thousand years ago."

"Do you regret doing so?" I asked, curious.

Raven shrugged. "Yes and no. Yes, because without offspring there is no one to follow us and life has become tedious and meaningless. No, because our failed experiment resulted in granting much longer lifespans to the rest of Barsoom – thereby saving Barsoom from oblivion."

"What?" Carthan asked, stunned.

"When it was discovered that the serum was flawed, our scientists continued their research for centuries, eventually finding a solution that granted but a single millennium of life with no risk to reproduction. They flew the length and breadth of Barsoom, freely offering their research to scientists of every race in every city they could find. As a consequence, longer lifespans allowed your scientists time to complete experiments that would save the dying planet."

"The atmosphere plants . . . " Carthan murmured.

"Indeed – thereby saving millions," Raven agreed. "Without them even we would not have survived. Now, we are hoping that our dome technology will again save Barsoom from another threat . . ." He hesitated, glancing at me.

"Which is - ?" I prompted.

"Your planet, Lara. Jasoom." At my look of disbelief, he continued, "Are you aware that your people have sent probes to Barsoom?"

I shook my head slowly. I had known of plans to send men to Earth's moon in 1969, but had not known that Mars was an objective.

"We detected an orbiting probe only weeks ago. It appears to contain quite sophisticated photographic and other sensing apparatus."

My eyes widened in horror. "They'll know!"

Carthan frowned. "Who will know what?"

"Jasoom will discover that Barsoom has life." I whispered. "They'll see the cities – it may already be too late . . ." The mere thought of Earthly avarice overwhelming the unique culture of Mars made me physically ill.

I looked at Raven in comprehension. "That is why . . ."

" – why our domes could be useful. Though this dome is transparent, it is possible to camouflage the force field to match the surrounding countryside. Your cities – even your agricultural lands – could be effectively hidden from prying Jasoomian eyes."

Carthan and I agreed that It was now imperative that we reach Helium with dispatch, but we still faced months of hard travel. Several days later we were again bemoaning the loss of our flyer when Raven entered our cube holding the twins' hands, the three of them having just returned from one of their many exploratory walks around the city.

Carthan looked at him. "Raven, you said your scientists had travelled the entirety of Barsoom with their serum. Are those flyers still here – and operable?"

He smiled sadly. "Regrettably, no. Few of our people returned when they realized how attractive life could be out there – " he waved a hand toward the south. "The few flyers that were returned lay stored in a nearby cavern unused for centuries until one day the cave collapsed."

Carthan, who had thoughts of possibly repairing one, digested this in dismay. After a long moment, he said, "Then do you know of a city named Kobol?"

"I do. In fact it lies not far from here, on the plain beyond the Rift."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The children found it particularly distressing to leave the domed city. They had befriended many of the residents, men and women, but it was the apes' affectionate natures that the children would miss most. As we filed out of the airlock to recommence our journey, dozens of the animals followed. They were incapable of showing emotion but, exuding ineffable loss, they stood watching until we disappeared from their sight. Cara and Tarin were in tears.

With Xodo accompanying us as our guide at the behest of Rab Taven, we set out on a trail that led steeply upward through a side-canyon. It was a long, hard climb with many rest stops for the children and me. We did not attain the top that day or the next, but on the third day we surmounted a last gruelling pitch to stand at last on the edge of a vast, red, rock-strewn desert stretching to the horizon. Behind us an enormous expanse of the rift valley faded into invisibility where its northern wall disappeared over the horizon.

Uninterested in remarkable scenery, Xodo, under explicit instructions from Ras Taven, unhesitatingly lumbered off toward the south-west.

Four days of steady walking across rocky desert brought us within sight of Kobol. The sun was nearing the western horizon when we paused behind a pile of boulders to study the city, glowing red in the dusk. It was small, as Barsoomian cities go, but its walls were solidly constructed from iron-rich basalt mined from the Rift.

The skies of Barsoomian cities are usually busy by day, with a constant coming and going of transport vehicles and personal flyers. Kobol had no such traffic. In fact our immediate impression was that the city was abandoned.

Puzzled, but unwilling to investigate so late in the day, we set up the tent where we were. When the children drifted into deep sleep after the evening meal, Carthan began to arm himself.

"What are you doing?" I asked in trepidation.

"I'm going to reconnoiter," he said.

"No!"

He turned to face me, holding my shoulders. "Lara, we don't know what we're getting into. Something is wrong here and I intend to discover what it is before we take our children into danger."

I could hardly argue with that, but I was deeply apprehensive. "At least take the calots."

"I'll take Paddy," he said. "You may need Belle." With that, he gestured at the calot to follow and set out for the city. Later that night, while I lay awake waiting, Paddy returned.

Carthan did not.

Sleepless and terrified, I was a wreck next morning when the children awoke. There was little point in trying to hide the absence of their father and they stared at me wide-eyed with worry.

Little Cara said stoutly. "We have to go get him Lara."

"It's too dangerous, love," I said, hugging her for her bravery.

"Xodo says he'll come with us," Tarin said. "He knows where he is."

I gaped at my son. "How could he know that!"

"Paddy told him that 'Than jumped over the wall and didn't come back. We could all jump over the wall and find him and then jump back." He grinned.

"_Easy"_, I read in his thoughts. If only it were!

I decided to wait a day to give Carthan the opportunity to free himself from whatever situation he had encountered. Then I would go in myself.

I was slinging my sheathed rapier over my shoulder the next morning, when I realized all of them were watching me – Cara, Tarin, Belle, Paddy and Xodo. Cara said, "We're coming too Lara all of us." The twins were dressed for hiking, each carrying a small pack.

"Absolutely not, Cara. You will remain here with Xodo and the calots where you will be safe."

Her eyes, the colour of a stormy ocean, were on the verge of tears. "If you don't come back with 'Than what do we do?"

That was not a scenario I had visualized. So positive was I that I would find my mate, I had not once imagined not returning at all. I paused in horror at what I had nearly done and sat on the ground abruptly, filled with remorse and agonized with indecision.

Tarin wrapped his arms around me. "It's okay Lara we'll all go together. You'll see it's okay. Nobody can hurt the calots and Xodo is really really strong. They'll take care of us."

Dazed from stress and lack of sleep, I looked into the earnest grey eyes of my sensible little son, who was so very much like his father. He was right. The calots, and probably Xodo too, were worth a dozen guardsmen each. If we – all of us – couldn't prevail, no one could.

But – oh Issus! I agonized – Cara and Tarin were _children._

Within the hour we reached the city. The skies above were still devoid of flyers and we had met no one en route. The gates were closed, and I visualized Carthan leaping to the top of that 30 foot wall. I wished I were free to try, but of course that was impossible. Taking a deep breath, I unslung my scabbard over my head and rapped the rapier's hilt hard on the gate three times. Not really expecting a response I was amazed – and alarmed – when it slowly creaked open. I quickly replaced the scabbard out of sight on my back.

I wonder now what the two guards' first impression was as they beheld us standing in a row before them: a fair-skinned woman with red hair, two tiny matching human beings, a hulking Black Ape, and two calots, teeth bared and filled with menace. To the men's credit they did not run screaming into the city. Rather, they stood their ground, albeit with looks of apprehension, and drew their swords.

"Who – who are you?" the first guard stammered, not knowing how to treat us.

I said, "We are travellers, seeking my mate who entered your city two days ago."

The guards looked at each other, baffled. My heart sank.

The second guard said, rather too quickly, "Wait here. I will fetch my superior."

As he jogged off, clearly eager to leave the scene, his unhappy comrade waved his sword threateningly. "Do not move."

I placed my hands on Belle and Paddy's heads, silently bidding them to remain calm. Sensing Xodo's rising anxiety, the twins each took one of his hands to soothe him. We waited thus for several long minutes until the second guard returned with an officious Dwar whose sneer disappeared when he realized his subordinate had not been exaggerating.

"Who are you?" he demanded, abruptly recalling his superior rank.

"I am Lara of Helium. I seek my mate who entered your city two days ago."

"Helium, you say?" His mouth curled again. "Then your mate must be the one who _sneaked_ into Kobol like an assassin two days ago. He was caught and has been arrested for attempted murder of our jeddak. You, of course, must be an accessory. Take them!" he said to the guards.

I had to think fast, but what to do? Since the only way I could protect my children was to stay with them, I dared not engage the guards. I also needed the calots and Xodo inside the city walls. When I ordered them telepathically to flee and await my summons, Belle and Paddy sped off along a side street and Xodo climbed the elaborately carved decorations of a nearby building and disappeared over its roof. The three men, alarmed but helpless to prevent the animals' escape, made no effort to follow.

Drawing my children close, I surrendered.

We were taken to a guard post nearby where the Dwar commenced to interrogate me in the presence of his guards.

"What are these – things?" he asked, waving at the twins.

Biting off a retort, I said, "They are my children,"

His eyes widened as he studied them. "Children? Are they deformed?" He looked at me slyly, deliberately baiting me.

I choked back rage and barely resisted drawing my blade to run him through. With an effort I managed a simple, "No."

His skeptical demeanor did not help my mood. My hand continued to itch as he moved closer to peer at the twins. "Surely they cannot speak."

"We can too," Cara said, outraged.

"Me too," added Tarin unnecessarily.

"Ha! They must be Therns," the Dwar said, grabbing Cara's hair and pulling hard.

She screamed, and I reached over my shoulder to draw my rapier. "Leave her alone!" I shouted.

The Dwar released Cara's hair and pivoted to face me. "Why is she still armed?" he snarled at the guards while his sword slithered from its sheath.

He hardly had time to pull it all the way out before I was upon him. The guard room was barely large enough for close-in fighting and we stood almost toe to toe, swinging at each other with little finesse. He was able, but I was faster. Soon I had him bent backward over a desk, blade to his throat, when something struck my head from behind.

I sank slowly to the floor, semi-conscious and unable to control my movements. From the corner of my eye I saw a small figure dart forward to snatch up my rapier. I watched, helpless and horrorstruck, as my little son engaged the Dwar in the most incredible display of fencing imaginable. Taking huge leaps with his Earthly muscles, Tarin repeatedly flew right over the man's head, swinging the rapier with all his might. His movements were so quick that the Dwar was unable to locate him in time to connect. Tarin, however, connected several times with slices and jabs to various parts of the Dwar's body. A scalp wound bled profusely into the man's eyes.

But fencing is hard work, especially for an inexperienced six-year-old, and Tarin soon began to falter. In spite of his injuries, the Dwar swiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand and kept coming, determined to rid himself of this annoyance.

When Tarin landed after another mighty leap, he stumbled and fell in a heap on the floor. "No!" I managed to scream as the Dwar's blade descended on my hapless son.

A mighty roar brought the Dwar up short, blade only inches from Tarin's head. Straining to turn my uncooperative body, I managed to look back at the door where I saw Cara holding it open for a frenzied Xodo. The ape leapt upon the Dwar and with a sickening twist by two pairs of opposing hands, broke the man's neck.

The guards, their fortitude having vanished in the face of such fury, fled.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

My head ached abominably and I swayed dizzily as Xodo and the children assisted me to my feet. At that moment a man rushed through the open door. He was not a guard, for his harness bore no insignia of any kind. I felt I had seen him before, but my muzzy brain could not call up either a name or circumstance. I did, however, recognize the exquisite quality of his weaponry.

He was typical of the Red race of Martians, of average height and no longer young. Though he had the trim body of a 40-year-old, his otherwise handsome face was etched with the deep lines of decades of heavy responsibility.

"There is no time for explanations," he said hurriedly, eyeing the ever alert Xodo with respect. "You must all come with me now. The city militia is on the way." He offered a hand to help me along, but I backed away.

"I need to know who you are and why you wish to help us," I said, slurring my words and clinging to one of Xodo's arms for support.

His lips tightened – more from impatience at the delay, I decided, than in anger. "My name is Ban Tar." I should have remembered him then, but my head hurt.

He went on, "By chance, I happened to evesdrop on your interrogation –" he aimed his chin at an open window, "and heard you say you were from Helium and that your mate entered the city two days ago . . . "

Looking at me oddly, he hesitated – I realized that he knew me and was waiting for recognition. Still blank, but feeling a growing urgency, I said, "Go on."

"I too am from Helium. In recent weeks there has been a coup against Heliumetic rule here in Kobol and I have reason to believe your mate has been caught up in it. You and your children need to get to safety. My home is not far. Will you not come with me?"

He knew what had happened to Carthan! But which side was he on?

With the sound of marching feet now echoing off nearby buildings, I had no choice but to trust him. I managed one painful nod in assent. Xodo gently lifted a weary Tarin to his shoulders, steadying him with his two upper arms. He then gave me one of his lower hands for support and clasped Cara's hand with the other. We followed the man into the street and managed to round a corner just before the advancing soldiers could spot us. Cara had to run to keep up with Ban Tar who wasted no time threading through the winding streets of the city until we reached a lane behind an unadorned three-storey structure, one of many similar dwellings on the street. He unlocked a solid gate in a wall which concealed the rear of the house, and stood aside as all of us filed past him, including Xodo who was by now fully supporting me. We entered a barren garden which contained only patches of short red grass.

Reeling with pain and giddiness, I collapsed onto a garden bench and held my head.

Ban Tar shouted for assistance and two women rushed outside. One of them inspected my scalp, her fingers gently probing the injury, while the other attempted to take the twins into the house. When they flatly refused to leave me, Ban Tar scooped me up and carried me into a large common room where he propped me, supported by pillows, on a luxurious divan.

The woman who had examined me – her name was Minall – said, "You may have a mild concussion and must remain awake for the day. I will give you an analgesic to assist you with the pain."

When I tried to nod my head, I had to close my eyes against a galaxy of orbiting stars. She rushed off.

The other woman, Ginnar, had gone into an adjacent room. Within minutes she returned with a large tray of fruit, half of which the children devoured ravenously.

Xodo had faded into a far corner of the room, where he squatted on his haunches, fully alert. He was not averse, however, to finishing off the remaining fruit on the tray.

I drank down the bitter medicine gratefully while Minall applied healing salve to my swelling injury. Within a few minutes the pain receded and my mind cleared. I looked over at Ban Tar where he reclined comfortably, watching the proceedings.

"Tola," I said, which in Barsoomian means far more than simple gratitude.

Looking distracted, he merely nodded, and rising to his feet crossed the room to stand in front of Tarin. My son, who seemed to sense something of importance, stood up straight and tall, his eyes unflinchingly meeting those of Ban Tar.

Ban Tar raised his hand and, with a cryptic arrangement of his fingers, sketched a kind of benediction over Tarin's head while murmuring what sounded like a rhyming chant. From his other hand he took a golden badge, encrusted with rubies and etched with his personal insignia, and attached it to Tarin's harness.

I had seen the ritual before – once – in the throne room of Tardos Mors when he had recognized the exemplary courage of one of his generals. This form of recognition, bestowed only by a ruler, has no equivalent on Earth. Carthan had expained to me that by presenting his own sigil to the recipient, a Jed or Jeddak indicates that he is, in law, adopting that person into his own royal family.

That should have ended the ritual, but to my confoundment, Ban Tar – who had been at my wedding and whom I now recognized – sank to one knee before my son and offered him his own glittering sword.

He said: "Never in my long life, young warrior, have I seen such valour in the face of the foe as I saw in you this day. Someday, Tarin of Helium, you will be First among your people."

Tarin, of course, had never encountered the rite before, but remained true to his creed: _If you don't know, ask_. He took the heavy ruby-encrusted sword in both hands and said, "What do I do now, Sir?"

Ban Tar smiled his approval. "You say, 'I accept your fealty, Ban Tar', and then you return the sword to me."

"I accept your fealty, Ban Tar," said Tarin, his voice unwavering, as he handed back the weapon.

Inclining his head in respect, Ban Tar rose abruptly and strode toward his desk where he drew a pen, ink, and a blank parchment from a drawer. It took only a few minutes for him to fill the page. Then he stood, shaking the sheet dry.

"Lara, Minall, Gennar, Cara – I need you to attest to this document."

Written in Helium's script, it was meaningless to me, but I had after all witnessed the ceremony Ban Tar recorded. After Minall and Gennar – who had been looking on the whole time – drew their heiroglyphics, Cara carefully printed her well-practiced name in large English letters, and I added my looping scrawl.

Ban Tar sketched his own complicated signature and, sticking a black waxy substance to the parchment, sealed it with the ring of office of the Jeddak of Kobol.

. . . . .

For the rest of that day I was forced to overcome exhaustion and sleep deprivation to meet the prescribed concussion requirements, and then slept through the night and so far into the next day that my children began to wonder if I had died. Ban Tar assured them several times that I was alive and well, but it was not until they were (quietly!) allowed to view me that they were convinced.

I awoke mid-afternoon, much refreshed and feeling almost normal. Minall bustled about checking my temperature and heartbeat before she allowed me to sit up. However, when she saw how rapidly I had recovered, she reluctantly let me go down to the common room. Ravenous, I ate a cold repast of sliced thoat, a kind of vegetable stew, and fruit.

Having eaten my fill, I looked up to find Ban Tar watching me, and realized to my dismay that I had not even inquired after my children!

"They are safe," he said with a chuckle, reading me well, "and happily occupied by that remarkable ape of yours. Do you remember me now?"

I nodded ruefully. "I lack the words to sufficiently express my appreciation, Jeddak. . ." I began formally.

He raised a hand. "_Deposed_ Jeddak, Lara."

"Which does not diminish your rank one iota!" I said vehemently.

He snorted. "I wish all my subjects had been as certain as you."

"The more fools they," I muttered, incensed, then could wait no longer to ask, "Please, Ban Tar, do you know anything of Carthan?"

"He is uninjured and imprisoned in a tower of the palace. I gather that when he leapt over the wall, he landed in the midst of a troop of soldiers. He put up a valiant fight, but was eventually overwhelmed by sheer numbers."

Strange, I thought. Why hadn't Carthan first reconnoitered from the top? Later he admitted to his chagrin that he had misjudged the height.

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I have loyal friends – spies, if you will – all over the city and one in the palace. The usurper, Ob Kor, believes I fled the city after his coup, but loyalists secretly brought me and a few of my retinue to this house. I don't know how long we will be safe here and cannot guarantee that we will not be discovered." He then added, "As to Carthan, he was taken to Ob Kor who accused him of attempted assassination, even though he was nowhere near the palace and knew nothing of the takeover."

"Somehow, I must gain access to the palace – get him out of there!" I stood up so abruptly that my vision turned black.

Ban Tar rose hastily and took three long steps across the room to steady me. "Lara, you are not alone in this! My loyalists and I are planning to do just that -– but his succor is not the only issue."

"But they'll kill him!"

"Evidently not. Ob Kor has organized regular war games - skill competitions in various fighting techniques . . . "

Not again! Was there no other way to punish transgressors on this planet!

"With Carthan in every event," I said, bitterly remembering the tyrant Kolla.

"Precisely. However, if we plan this well, we can both rescue him and regain the throne."

The pacifist in me cried out, "Why games, Ban Tar? Why must it always be battles to the death!"

He knew I was from Jasoom, and explained patiently. "You know we are a martial people, Lara. War games are a way of inspiring excellence in our soldiers, giving them goals and high standards. Even the least among them can achieve greater rank, recognition – even glory." Ban Tar shrugged. "War games are a way of life, but," he added ironically, "not usually 'battles to the death'."

I digested that for a moment, then asked the question that had plagued me from the start. "Why has Helium not come to your aid?"

Ban Tar shrugged. "You must have noticed the lack of air traffic? Ob Kor has banned flight into and out of the city since his coup – to the point that he had every flyer in the city disabled but his own. On top of that he confiscated every riding thoat in Kobol and keeps them under guard. I have messengers on the way to Helium, of course, but you can imagine how long it will take afoot."

I could indeed.

So much for borrowing a flyer to get home.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6. . . . .

In spite of my protests that I was quite well, both Minall and Ban Tar insisted I rest at least for the next two days. I'm grateful that they did. Not only did I need the respite from worry and responsibility, but it gave me a now-treasured opportunity to become acquainted with my host. To my chagrin and delight – along with the women servants – he took his turn caring for the twins, who as they all soon discovered were endlessly in need of enlightening entertainment.

Ban Tar and I conversed for hours, exchanging stories and philosophy, and he is the only person outside the family who has ever heard the tale of Carthan's and my adventures in the past.

When I asked him about himself, he kept to plain hard facts, but from beneath the specifics there emerged a gentle, modest man, and as capable a leader as one could imagine.

"Not long," he said, "after John Carter became Warlord, Kobol was invaded and its Jeddak killed. Helium came to its rescue and when the invaders were ejected – quite violently, I understand – Helium claimed Kobol as a vassal state. John Carter honoured me by appointing me administrator."

"Why you?" I asked, curious.

"We knew each other well. From the time he became Warlord he began to accumulate wealth in the form of land holdings, mines, and expensive gifts. Soon he was overwhelmed with clerical duties for which he had neither aptitude nor interest. As a major domo in his palace, and one who enjoys such work, I offered to assist and he found my work satisfactory."

I laughed. "'Satisfactory' is hardly the word if the Warlord of Mars deemed you capable of running a city!"

Ban Tar merely smiled, and I asked, guessing the answer, "How, then, did a mere administrator become Jeddak?"

He shrugged. "The people held a vote."

. . . . .

On the day following my two days of respite I stood up from the table after a light luncheon, and stretched, feeling only a mild ache at the back of my skull.

I turned to Ban Tar, still sipping from a cup. "I need to practice. Will you fence with me?"

"What?" he exclaimed, choking on his tea. "Impossible! You are ill."

"I am well enough to hold a sword. Where do you keep them?"

He opened his mouth to protest, and then he saw from my expression that it would be futile to argue. He walked to a large cabinet and unlocked its door with a key from his harness. He gave me a dubious look, but stood back waving a hand in invitation. I selected two plain short swords, handing him one. Shaking his head, he led the way into the building's rear courtyard where the scuffed and worn sward indicated it had often been used for sword practice.

We squared off, saluted, and engaged.

I discovered that day that Ban Tar had not become jeddak merely for his administrative skills, but it took a while for him to prove the point. By the time I touched him a second time he still had not done so.

Fed up with chauvinistic Barsoomian males, and sensing he possessed a much higher level of skill than he was demonstrating, I took a deep breath and let it out with a frustrated huff. In what was for me slow motion, I reprised the first three steps in the basic fencing technique taught to the planet's youth. With each move, I said, "Do not. Hold. Back!". Then, with deliberate precision, I plucked Ban Tar's sword from his hand and sent it flying to strike (and break) a third floor window.

As the sword clattered to the ground, he drew himself erect, his face a study in royal rage, then doubt, and finally comprehension. His eyes came alive with the light of battle.

Ban Tar was good – in fact, he was one of the best Barsoomian-born swordsmen I had ever engaged – and our bout that day was a joy to one deprived of the sport for so long. Once he banished from his mind the fact that I was a woman, he settled into a brilliant fighting rhythm that kept me on my toes.

However, I was still not well. Lungs heaving and head pounding I had to call a halt long before I wished to, but the experience had been satisfying in the extreme. After a seven year hiatus, I could still keep up with the best.

. . . . .

The next Games were to be held in five days. My impatience grew each day, despite the distraction of workouts with Ban Tar. While children never seem to be bored, Cara and Tarin sensed my tension and I felt obliged to find something constructive for all of us to do together. I was browsing through Ban Tar's books the next afternoon when I found a very basic school text on writing, with beautiful coloured illustrations. I began in that very hour to both learn and teach the written language of Helium. The book was intended for use by an already-knowledgeable parent, and when Ban Tar saw I was having difficulty, he joined us as our teacher.

The days passed fruitfully, if not quickly, and the hour of the Games loomed. Ban Tar, cloaked, left for the arena with several of his cronies who, I suspected, were trusted bodyguards. I expressed my concern that he was placing himself in great peril but he waved a hand dismissively. "No one will expect to see me. All will be watching your mate."

I watched him walk into the street.

As soon as he was out of sight, I dashed to my room, snatched up my own cloak, and sped out into the courtyard. The children were napping and didn't see me go – nor did I wish them to.

Raising the hood to conceal my hair, I eased quietly out of the back gate, and hurried through the streets of Kobol, just one of many thousands streaming toward the arena. When the walls of the amphitheatre came within sight I paused in a lane, and then dashed through the gates just before they closed. Once inside, I managed to work my way up several tiers and then, squeezing past a burly guard, stepped into a row of seats directly over the main entrance.

Ob Kor must be paranoid, I thought. There seemed to be as many guards as people.

Directly opposite the main entrance, across the blackened blood-dyed sand of the arena floor, stood the dais and golden throne of Ob Kor. Just as I claimed a front-row seat beside the guard, the pretender made his grand entrance, surrounded by fawning flunkies and dozens of gaudily dressed women. He was tall and thin, with a bush of hair, a long narrow face, and a sneer he probably thought was a smile. I stood with everyone else, fuming with impatience, until he waved a hand, graciously bidding us all to sit.

The pits were directly beneath the dais. The first competitors emerged – ten men and a single banth. I refuse to describe that uneven and sickening match. Unfortunately the next four matches were similar and I dared not draw attention to myself by turning away. Though I closed my eyes, I could hear the screams of men and beasts – which to this day still echo in my dreams.

Then Carthan, tall and erect in spite of his heavy shackles, strode out into the sunshine from the darkness of the pits. He was marched into the centre of the arena where his guard jerked him roughly about to face Ob Kor. Another guard removed his chains and he stood blinking in the too-bright light, absently rubbing his wrists. Another guard gave him a sword.

Then, from the pits, twenty military swordsmen marched into the stadium in lock-step. They stopped 50 feet from Carthan, facing him, and drew their blades.

I could scarcely believe my eyes. Twenty! Against one man. I knew Carthan could not survive without help.

Before I could give myself time to think, I stood up, slid a short sword from the harness of the nearby guard, and hopped to the balustrade. From there I dropped to the sand and sprinted toward Carthan. Few noticed me at first, but as the weaponless guard began to shout in alarm, voices rose in amazement as the word swiftly spread around the stadium. In another minute, all sound had ceased.

As I ran, I flung back the hood and unfastened the cloak, letting it flutter to the ground. Flame-like, my unbound hair flew behind me. I was wearing the snug black leather tunic and tights I had acquired in the Rift, leaving absolutely no doubt about my gender.

By the time I reached him, Carthan was already engaged with two of the warriors, while the rest stood ready to take over if necessary. A rising sound of excitement arose from the spectators.

I charged into the midst of the melee.

Until that afternoon I had only ever killed one man. By the time a half-hour had elapsed, three more lay dead at my feet and two lay gravely injured. Carthan accounted for five, injuring four more. While it is true that "kill or be killed" was the order of the day, my soul still mourns for those men who were only obeying orders.

The last six terrified soldiers surrendered by throwing down their swords, while Ob Kor screamed obscenities at them.

"Lara, you must get out of here now!" Carthan said urgently, turning me bodily toward the entrance.

"No, Carthan, I cannot leave you here." I tried to tug him away with me.

"You must," he said, his solid body braced against my efforts.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Why?"

"There are many loyal Heliumites fighting in these games. I cannot abandon them to save myself."

I knew he was right, but, oh, how I wished otherwise. I said, thinking quickly, "Ban Tar is working on a scheme to regain his throne and it will be soon. There must be a way you can help from within. Wait for word. Be safe, my love."

The arena guards were nearly upon us as I gave him a last quick kiss. I raced across the sand outstripping my pursuers by far and leapt up to the balustrade. In the general pandemonium I pushed quickly through the milling spectators while pulling my hood over my head, then lost myself in the crowd. When I looked back at Carthan, who had not moved, he was still trying to track me as the soldiers shackled him.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

In the interval before the next Games, Ban Tar held a number of councils of war to which I was invited. The plans were coming together, but communicating with Carthan proved impossible. While he had spies in the palace, Ban Tar could not trust any of them to carry a private message to Carthan. I had a solution for that, but refrained from mentioning it in the event he would forbid it.

The children and I were at our studies one evening a few days later when I heard someone pound on the door. The guard who responded fetched Ban Tar from upstairs and when he entered the foyer, I heard his surprised exclamation and looked up. He was gripping the arm of a tall, red-skinned man, whom he then led into the common room.

I stared in disbelief as I recognized him even through his disguise, and then sprang to my feet.

"Omigod – Jack!" I exclaimed in English. As I threw myself against the Warlord's broad chest, all my accumulated stress drained out of me and to my chagrin I began to cry.

He held me, patting me gently on the back until I regained control. I stepped away a little and wiped futilely at his damp tunic. "Have you any idea how welcome you are?"

He grinned. "I do now."

A small voice said, "My name is Cara what's your name?"

Taken aback, Jack stiffened as he stared down at the red-haired girl-child tugging at his harness and then focussed on Tarin standing behind her, their sea-grey eyes mirroring his own.

Tarin said sternly in English, "I'm Tarin. We're twins. Only me and Carthan and Cara are 'lowed to hug Lara like that."

His face a comical mixture of astonishment, mirth and confusion, Jack quickly stepped away and stared at me. "Twins? But – how is it possible? You've only been gone – what? – three weeks?"

How could I explain our adventures in a nutshell? I said, "They are your great grandchildren, born on Eighth Century Earth six years ago."

He blinked, trying to grasp the inexplicable, and gave up. "A long story, I take it."

I nodded.

"Very well, some other time then." He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing in Kobol at a time like this? Where is Carthan? And the calots?"

I exchanged a look with Ban Tar, and replied, "He was caught up in the coup and is a prisoner of the pretender. As to why we are here, that is part of the longer story. The calots are in the city somewhere, though we haven't seen them since we arrived."

Jack studied the twins who were quiety watching him. "Clearly this is not the time to discuss such serious matters. Besides I want to meet my descendants." He squatted on his heels in front of the children and said in English, "I'm your great-grandfather, Jack Carter. Do you speak Barsoomian too?" he added in that language.

Cara said, "'Course we do. We are billy-lingle."

"By-lingle," corrected Tarin. "We're learning Heliumwriting." He grabbed the text book, and for the next hour the twins received the undivided attention of the Warlord of Mars.

After Jack and I tucked the children into bed, Ban Tar and I updated him on Carthan's status, and then he explained his presence in Kobol.

"Rumours had reached me in Helium of unrest in Kobol. Worried about my old friend" – he smiled at Ban Tar – "I decided to investigate on my own and in disguise. I was within a few haads of the city when I spotted two men trudging across the desert. I landed but did not identify myself, not certain whom they represented. They begged me to take them to Helium, professing to an urgent need to see John Carter. It was with difficulty that I proved my identity." He grinned ruefully. "I had no insignia on my person or my flyer, and in the end I had to remove the dye from my arm" – he held it out, a streak of white skin evident – "and had them confirm that my eyes were, indeed, an un-Barsoomian grey.

"After your men gave me your message, Ban Tar, we returned to the city in the dark and the three of us bluffed our way past the night guards. Your messengers then led me straight here."

Leaning toward his host, John Carter added, "I will help in any way I can, my friend. I'll order my personal miliita to deploy immediately. If you feel a thousand men is insufficient, I will request Tardos Mors to send a further contingent of his own. My flyer is hidden in a crater not far to the east and I would suggest that we send one your best pilots to Helium as soon as possible."

Ban Tar looked years younger. "That is kind, my Lord. I believe your militia will be more than sufficient." Surging to his feet saying, "I know just the man," he hurried off to find a guard.

. . . . .

Two days before the next Games were to commence, I strolled past the gates of the palace. I had drawn back the hood of my cloak just enough to reveal some of my red hair, but it took two more passages – and my hood nearly falling off the back of my head – before one of the lackadaisical guards noticed the colour. He shouted to gain the attention of the other guard, and ran toward me shouting "Halt!" I ran, but only just fast enough for him to catch me.

Treating me far more roughly than necessary (I was more than willing to go with him!) he yanked me toward the carved skeel doors of the palace and dragged me toward the audience chamber.

Ob Kor, lounging on Ban Tar's beautiful throne, was being fed fruit by one of his courtesans. He choked on a piece when he saw me. Coughing and gasping, he finally regained control and rose to his feet to mince toward me. He circled from a respectful distance and then stopped to face me.

"You!" he shouted, his long ugly face congesting with fury as he waved an accusatory finger from my head to my feet and back. "You spoiled my Games!" The emotions that flashed across his face – rage, elation, curiosity, lust – convinced me he was quite insane and for the first time I understood the degree of danger I was in.

"Actually, my Lord," I said, adding a note of impertinence, "I thought I provided some much needed half-time entertainment." I yawned elaborately. "An entire afternoon of fights to the death is sooo tedious."

He gaped at me and then threw back his head, roaring with laughter. His eyes gleamed as he took my hand, placed it on his arm, and led me to the dais. "I like you – ah, what is your name?"

"Lara, my Lord," I said, my fingers crossed.

He didn't recognize my name, and my knees nearly gave out with relief at the knowledge that he was ignorant of my relationship with Carthan. That information alone was worth all the risks I was prepared to take.

I was given a chair and had to sit, bored out of my mind, while Ob Kor talked about himself the entire afternoon.

All of Ob Kor's concubines – and I suppose I was now considered one of them – were confined to two floors in the tower and I was assigned a room to myself. The rooms were left unlocked for easy access by the pretender, but there were guards at both upper and lower exits..

I feared that Ob Kor would come to me that night but now, in retrospect, I know that it was unfortunate he did not. If he had been found dead at my hands the next morning, events would have played out far differently.

I learned from the girls that the detention level where Carthan was imprisoned was three floors above my room. I crept up the radium-lit ramps late that night and couldn't believe my luck when I found all the guards asleep!

I moved from door to door peering through bars into dimly lit cells. All were empty but one.

"Carthan?" I whispered.

His warrior instincts woke him instantly. He strode to the door, his hand reaching through the bars. "Lara? How did you . . .?

I grasped his fingers. "Shh – there's no time. John Carter is in Kobol and has sent for his militia, but we don't know if they will make it in time. Ban Tar has sufficient men for an assault to regain his throne during the Games, but needs help from within. He suggested that Ob Kor's mercenaries might be bribed into changing allegiance"

"A good idea, and probably feasible: they despise Ob Kor but he pays them well." He was silent a moment, thinking. "We practice daily in the arena – I will find a way." He added with a sniff, "You might tell Ban Tar that his treasury may be empty when he regains his throne."

The sleeping guard snorted, his head rearing up from the table where it had lain. Dazed from sleep, he peered about the dim room but failed to see me where I stood, stiffened, against the dark sorapus wood of Carthan's cell. I held my breath until his body, closer to slumber than wakefulness, slumped back to the table.

"I must go." I said. "A kiss for luck, Love?"

Our lips met lingeringly between the bars, and I returned undetected to my room.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Ban Tar's palace spy delivered my verbal message and returned a reply, and when the sun rose on the day of the Games, there was nothing left to do but wait. Though Jack's militia had not yet arrived, we still had hope they would reach Kobol in time.

Ob Kor's women, dressed in their finest for the event, resembled butterflies in rainbow colours. Two of them, less hostile than the others, offered to dress me and style my hair. Oohing and aahing they asked where I had found the dye and then piled my hair on my head leaving long ringlets. They draped me in a filmy, barely decent emerald green gown that would have been the envy of any prom queen. I longed to wear my leathers, but was allowed no choice. At least my hair, primped, pinned and pasted down, would not interfere with my vision. The floor-length gown, however, might prove to be a problem.

The amphitheatre, packed with people, was far more crowded than last time. A rising hum of expectancy lent excitement to the already charged atmosphere. We ladies strolled into the stadium behind a magnificently adorned and self-consciously regal Ob Kor who ascended the ramp and took his place on his throne. Having covered my bright hair with a filmy veil, I took a seat in the back as far from him as possible, but as close to a guard as I could in the event I would need a weapon.

The program followed the pattern of the previous Games – men versus animals, then men versus men. As before, I tried not to watch, but the second event brought me out of my seat, my eyes riveted on the competitors. Ten men against two calots.

Belle and Paddy!

And there was nothing I could do . . .

Or was there? The men were clearly panthans – mercenaries – their plain harnesses indicating their status and I knew by now that Carthan had persuaded them to fight on our side. Still standing, I focussed my thoughts on the calots. Their heads came up, their eyes arrowing in on where I sat behind the throne. For a horrible moment I thought they would come to me, but they read my urgent plea to "stay".

The fight ended almost before it began. On my orders, biting and clawing as gently as they were able, the two calots disabled every one of the men before a sword could be raised in attack. None of the men was seriously hurt and limped off, assisting each other, while the unharmed calots sat on their haunches watching with interest. When I ordered them back into the pits to await further instructions, they obeyed instantly.

Ob Kor leaned back in the throne, disgusted. He craved the sight of violent death.

Three more man-versus-animal contests left one man and one thoat dead.

The next match, I knew, would be different.

Ban Tar had told me that after I had fought at Carthan's side in the arena dissatisfaction had been growing among the populace about the excessive violence and grossly uneven matches between competitors. He intended to use that displeasure to his own advantage.

In a reprise of the last Games, shackled and closely guarded, Carthan walked into the arena. When he reached the centre, he turned to face Ob Kor and held out his hands. His mercenary guards released him, gave him a sword, and walked back to the pits, leaving him alone on the sand. There was a long pause, as if the audience was holding its collective breath waiting for someone. That someone sat in obscurity on the dais in her emerald gown, also waiting. . .

This time forty of Ob Kor's personal bodyguards marched onto the field. Only a few of us in the arena knew they were mercenaries who had transferred their allegiance to Carthan. A shocked murmur began in the crowd, which grew in volume until the amphitheatre thundered with stamping feet and shouts of protest. Someone began chanting "Car-than, Car-than", and the cry was taken up until the stadium shook with his name.

Ob Kor, pounding on the arms of the throne in apoplectic fury, screamed, "Stop! Stop! I order you to stop!"

Then a lone, commanding figure entered the arena through the main doors. He walked briskly across the sand, sword in hand. White-skinned and grey-eyed, he was recognizable by nearly everyone present. The entire audience rose to its feet, cheering and shouting encouragement.

Ob Kor's eyes started in disbelief as a grinning Carthan gripped arms with his grandfather.

The ersatz bodyguards charged Carthan and John Carter, whose display of gravity-defying acrobatics brought roars of approval from the crowd. The two men bounded through the mercenaries, swords flashing without pause, while the mercenaries threw themselves convincingly to the ground, apparently grievously injured.

At that point, dozens of Ob Kor's real personal guard poured into the arena.

It then became clear that John Carter's militia had arrived after all. (I learned later they were spirited through the gates in the night and billeted with loyalist townsfolk.) Throwing back their concealing capes to reveal the Warlord's colours, they poured from the bleachers where they had mingled with the spectators, leapt onto the sand, and charged into the fray. As the "dead" mercenaries rose to their feet and still more of Ob Kor's troops poured in, the field became a sea of cursing men, clanging swords, and blood.

A commotion on the dais to my left brought me to my feet. I was the only women left after the concubines had run screaming from the arena.

With a few of his loyalists at his back, Ban Tar ran straight for Ob Kor. Before he could demand the pretender's surrender, Ban Tar himself was intercepted by Ob Tor's personal guard.

Ban Tar and his men were hard pressed to hold position, and the fighting shifted to place them with their backs to the throne. With a move almost too quick to grasp, Ob Kor stood up and whipped his magnificently bejewelled sword from its scabbard. He took two rapid steps, drove the blade through Ban Tar's exposed back, and pulled it out again.

I think I was the only one who saw what happened. I snatched up Ban Tar's long sword which had flown from his flailing hand, and ran at Ob Kor, screaming, "Noooo!"

The fighters on the stage came to a standstill as my scream drew their attention to the fallen Jeddak. Word spread outward from the dais in a wave until all the fighting ceased and the entire stadium fell silent.

I swung the heavy weapon at Ob Kor's head. He deflected it easily, saying with a sneer, "I do not fight women."

"You'll fight this one, you snivelling coward," I said, silently cursing the hampering folds of the dress.

Standing with his sword at rest, both hands on the hilt, he laughed at me in defiance.

Deliberately, I laid my sword on the floor in front of me and while I was bent over grabbed a handful of the rear hem, drew it forward between my legs, and secured it through my belt in front. In cold fury, I snatched up the sword and charged him. His eyes widened as he parried my first thrust. It was not long before he understood his life was forfeit.

To my surprise he was an excellent swordsman and I realized with dismay that with my limited endurance I might not be able to dispatch him before my energy was depleted. With tens of thousands of eyes upon us, we fought back and forth across the dais. Long minutes later, panting with exertion, I knew I was in trouble.

"Carthan!" I cried, hoping he was somewhere within hearing.

Almost in my ear, he said, "I am here, Love."

As my mate took up the fight, I gave way gratefully, and collapsed to my knees near the body of Ban Tar. Crawling over to him I found him barely alive.

He looked at me with pain-filled eyes. "Lara, would you – hold me?"

When I hesitated, he said, "You cannot hurt me further. Please - I have been alone so long . . ."

Carefully I raised his head and shoulders to my lap, feeling his warm blood flow over my knees, soaking into my gown. I held him tight and bending close deliberately kissed him on his mouth, receiving a weak but obvious response. His voice failing, he sighed. "Would that we had met long ago. What a magnificent jeddara you . . ."

He was gone.

Vision blurring, I looked up to watch while my prince and Ob Kor fought for their lives. Ob Kor, becoming desperate, used the most malicious fencing tricks I had ever seen. Carthan, imperturbable, seemed to know them all and swept them aside with ease. Ob Kor began to gobble in fear, desperately deflecting Carthan's relentless attack – and dropped his weapon.

With one mighty swing of his long sword, Carthan decapitated the pretender. As the grimacing skull rolled across the dais, the crowd's mighty roar of approval rocked the amphitheatre.

They did not yet know their true Jeddak was dead too, and I alone wept for one of the finest men I had ever known.


	9. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

John Carter moved into the palace to keep order, apply justice, and organize a transition, assisted by Carthan who attended to security, the disposition of Ob Kor's militia, and the payment and release of the panthans.

Ban Tar had no heirs, and so far Jack had no one in mind to take over the administration of Kobol.

Carthan and I remained in Ban Tar's house where the children were comfortable and the servants were willing to stay on. Jack visited every evening, as much for the company of someone other than his military leaders, as to visit his adored – and adoring – great grandchildren.

A few nights after the fatal Games, we were discussing the succession when I suddenly recalled the document Ban Tar had asked me to witness. Carthan searched through the desk until he found the folded parchment. Breaking the seal and reading the title, he muttered, "Decree . . ." He glanced through it, his eyes widening with disbelief. Exchanging one of those mysterious male looks with Jack, he silently handed it over.

After reading it through with a similar reaction, Jack grinned in approval murmuring, "Oh, well done, Ban Tar!"

"Will you two tell me what's going on?" I grumbled, incensed at being left out.

His eyes gleaming, Jack stood at attention, cleared his throat, and read in solemn tones:

"DECREE.

"I, Ban Tar, rightful Jeddak of Kobol, having been appointed Administrator of Kobol by John Carter, Warlord of Mars, and having since that time been acclaimed Jeddak by the citizens of Kobol, and having no surviving heirs, hereby declare that Tarin – son of Carthan son of Carthoris son of John Carter – shall, upon the signing and witnessing of this Decree, be my legal son and heir and upon my death shall assume the title of Jeddak of Kobol. If the said Tarin shall be a minor upon my death then I decree that his parents Carthan and Lara, Prince and Princess of Helium, shall assume the responsibilities of Regents until the said Tarin achieves his majority.

"Signed in the presence of witnesses, Ban Tar, Jeddak of Kobol.

"Witnesses: Minall, Gennar, Cara (Jack grinned in delight), and – Lara?" he glanced at me, unable to decifer my scrawl.

Dumbfounded, I nodded

. . . . .

John Carter returned to Helium some days later having completed his administrative details. On the day he left, he resigned his temporary role, formally turned the governance of Kobol over to Carthan and me in Tarin's name, and gave us, in effect, the keys to the kingdom.

Comfortable in Ban Tar's snug little refuge, Carthan and I tried to postpone our move until we adjusted to the idea of new and overwhelming responsibilities. But when the desk overflowed, the common room proved too small, and we at last conceded that no amount of delay could stop the inevitable, we moved into the palace.

Everything had been readied for us. The building had been thoroughly scrubbed and stripped of everything that could remind us of Ob Kor, including his concubines who had been sent (or flown) home, wherever that happened to be. Nearly all of Ban Tar's former staff had been tracked down and re-hired.

Jack returned a week later with Thuvia, Carthoris, and Dejah – all of whom were anxious to meet their unique grandchildren. Thuvia, as always, was a treasure house of ideas for decoration, and we three ladies spent hours deciding on colours and selecting furniture. And, yes gentlemen, I realize such trivia is unnecessary to this narrative, but I had an entire palace to decorate!

The skies above Kobol returned to normal as the disabled flyers were repaired. Commerce resumed with other cities on Barsoom, who were eager to deal with a new and respected administration.

One evening while the entire family was gathered in our new atrium, Carthan and I recounted the tale of our three-week (and seven-year-long) honeymoon adventures. I know it was difficult for them to believe, but the evidence sat at their feet in the form of six-year old twins – who were as fascinated as their forebears.

Before the family returned to Helium, Carthan made a short flight, returning the same day with Rab Taven. Waiting until the excited children retired, we then asked "Raven" to describe the properties of the domes and the benefits they could bring to Barsoomian cities if (or when) my people arrived from Earth.

John Carter was the first to endorse the project, having first-hand knowledge that some of the atmosphere plants were beginning to fail. That information was, of course, confidential, but I would rather not have known it at all. The thought of the Barsoomian peoples imprisoned in domes on an airless planet devastated me.

Rab Taven, however, offered to inspect the plants with several of his colleagues. Considering how their research had already benefitted the planet, I began to be more optimistic about our future.

Lara O'Dae

Kobol, 1973


	10. Afterword

AFTERWORD

It is now forty years since those words were written and much has changed on Mars. While warfare remains a way of life, our communications technology has caught up to that of Earth and we have found this method to share our story with those of you who _believe_ but have been unable to join us on Barsoom.

Rab Taven and his scientists saved the atmosphere plants, and every city and agricultural operation, in every corner of the planet, is now protected by a camouflaged dome. From space Mars appears lifeless. If you should eventually find us, you will be received with courtesy but told to leave. We can see what is happening to you, and we cannot allow you to destroy us as you are destroying your magnificent planet.

Tarin assumed his responsibilities as Jeddak of Kobol when he came of age and has since married and sired children. Cara? Our irrepressible Cara is a world unto herself. You may hear more of her some day.

Carthan and I returned to the Rift Valley a few years ago but, to our great disappointment and mystification, could not find the colonnaded façade of the portal terminal, though we searched for days. It was as if every atom of its existence had been obliterated.

We often wonder what became of our migrants in Moon Valley. Were they joined by more settlers from the Rift? Did they survive the centuries, eventually blending into European settlements? Or did they perhaps add their genes to those of the Ktunaxa people? After twelve hundred years there is no way to know. And yet . . . now that I think back on my teaching years in the valley, I recall two or three children who had startlingly white hair. . .

As one who had to keep my personal life private for decades, it is still difficult for me to embellish events and reveal my innermost emotions. Thuvia, who has been my editor and mentor throughout the telling of my story, has helped mitigate what would otherwise be a narrative of cold hard fact. I can still hear her say, "More _passion_, Lara."

_Tola, _Thuvia!

_**Lara O'Dae**_

_**Kobol, 2013 **_


End file.
